


Mistletoe and Mariah

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Music, Christmas Party, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Michael doesn't particularly want to attend his brother's Christmas party, but he'll do his bit for family; it is Christmas after all. He doesn't expect to meet the most gorgeous man he's ever laid eyes on. A man who wants to be at the party even less than he does.The two of them find a way to pass the time.
Relationships: Castiel/Michael (Supernatural)
Kudos: 9





	Mistletoe and Mariah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CR Noble (erudite12)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/gifts).



> This has basically been in my mind since CR Noble introduced me to the incredibly amazing Castiel/Michael ship, so it feels fitting to make it an early Christmas gift :)
> 
> Happy Christmas you amazing person you!

In his defence, Michael had done nothing more than he had promised. He’d agreed to attend this soiree of Raphael’s on Christmas Eve, no less, but he was going to wear the most seasonably appropriate outfit he could find. Raphael had rolled his eyes and reminded his brother, _again_ , that this was not the standard office party so much as a black-tie event, but he had not explicitly told him not to. That said, he would have been pissed beyond measure if Michael had shown up wearing a garish Christmas sweater complete with luminous reindeer antlers, which he had considered, briefly.

In the end, Michael, the epitome of class regardless of what his brother said, had gone with a tuxedo. Granted it was a deep red, not his particular colour but it wasn’t like he couldn’t pull it off. The waistcoat and bow tie were slightly brighter and dotted with a pattern of white snowflakes. It was Christmassy, it was tasteful and, to Michael’s unending joy, it had thoroughly infuriated Raphael who, in his well-fitting black tuxedo looked positively drab by comparison. Not that Raphael could insult his brother’s choice of suit, not when Michael looked as good in it as he did and when Michael was far more capable than he of charming his guests. That _was_ why Raphael wanted him there after all, whatever he might say about _Christmas spirit_ and the importance of _family_.

Raphael might be an expert in business but when it came to social graces he was decidedly lacking. It had been one of the reasons that Michael had been reticent to attend, after all, what kind of people decided to consider a merger on Christmas Eve? People who hated fun, that’s who, or at least that’s what he’d assumed and was blessedly proved wrong when he was introduced to Raphael’s counterpart in whatever company he wanted to work with, Gabriel something-or-other, he hadn’t quite heard the name. But if Raphael thought Michael’s outfit was over the top then Gabriel was downright luminescent by comparison. The man looked like a Christmas cracker, he greeted Michael with an excessive hug and a shouted, ‘Merry Christmas’ raising his glass of champagne in a toast. Michael liked him immediately.

While, technically, this was above all a business meeting however dressed up it might have been, Michael was pleased to note that for most of the attendees it was a party. His particular brand of charm, fine-tuned to win over executives just like this was hardly needed as conversation flowed as easily as the champagne. Raphael had intended to impress and he had certainly delivered, there was nobody Michael spoke to who wasn’t enjoying themselves. Naturally, when his eyes fell upon a man standing off to one side, clearly trying to put up some kind of mental barrier between himself and the party, he was intrigued. When a woman attempted to pull him into dancing only to be met with a quiet, yet stern rebuff, he was amused. And when the guy glanced up and Michael caught a flash of brilliantly blue eyes, a glimpse of hair that had looked like it had already been thoroughly debauched, _well_ , it would have been rude not to have taken him a drink.

There was champagne available on the tray of every waiter being paid excessive amounts of overtime and so, assessing the situation perfectly, Michael took him a beer. He stepped up to the man, stood casually beside him and held out the beer. The man looked at it for a moment before taking it with a grunt that, in some languages, might have passed for a thank you.

“You look like you’d rather be somewhere else,” Michael said without a hint of reproach.

The man looked at him for a moment and Michael reminded himself to breathe normally, even though the guy, who had been handsome at a distance, was downright breathtaking up close. His eyes were so blue they seemed to gleam in the low light of the room, brought out by the light blue of his bow tie and his tuxedo tailored so perfectly not an inch of his perfect physique was not showcased by the expensive fabric. Whoever had told him that blue was his colour had done mankind a service.

“Hm?” the man murmured, thoughtfully. “How clumsy of me,” he said, in a voice so low it scraped something deep in Michael’s gut, but his eyes sparkled when he glanced over, “I had hoped I looked like I’d rather be _anywhere_ else.”

The man held his gaze for a moment before Michael threw his head back and laugh, which elicited a chuckle from the guy.

“Michael,” Michael held his own beer up.

The man raised his bottle and clinked them together, “Castiel.”

“What short straw did you draw to end up here?” asked Michael.

“My brother asked me what I was doing for Christmas Eve, foolishly I said ‘nothing’ before I asked why he wanted to know and here I am, watching some vapid businessman attempt to woo his company from him.” His tone was so deadpan, Michael choked on the beer he was sipping. For a moment, Castiel looked guilty and his hand rubbed soothing circles on Michael’s back, “Sorry,” he flushed, “my people skills are somewhat rusty.” His hand was warm through the fabric of Michael’s tux and the coughing fit subsided. He hesitated, unsure for a moment, clearly trying to think of an appropriate question for small talk. “What...uh...what brings you here?”

Michael turned on him a shit-eating grin, “My brother invited me,” he gestured with his bottle, “He’s the vapid businessman talking to _your_ brother, I assume?”

Castiel’s face fell and he sucked in a sharp breath, “Oh dear. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean- I mean I’m sure he’s perfectly-”

“It’s fine, Castiel,” Michael laughed, thoroughly enjoying the flush spreading across the man’s cheeks, “Really, it’s fine. Though I have to disagree with you, Raphael is far from vapid...” Castiel caught his eye, waiting for the punchline, “He’s far too uptight for that, but I’ll give him this, he hosts an excellent free bar.”

As though realising they were being talked about, both Raphael and Gabriel looked over at their brothers. Michael and Castiel wore matching innocent grins as they raised their bottles in a silent toast, stifling the boyish giggles that rose within them. Raphael arched an eyebrow but returned to his conversation with Gabriel and didn’t look Michael’s way again, which only amused him even more.

“Would you like to dance, Castiel?” he asked when their beer was practically gone.

“Would I _like_ to? Very much. However, my dancing skills are worse than my social graces,” Castiel scoffed, “so to preserve your reputation I should probably decline.”

“Another drink, then?”

Castiel grinned, “Absolutely.”

Raphael was a perfectly competent businessman, excellent even, but his manner in the boardroom didn’t translate so well to this kind of gathering even if he was particularly good at arranging them. Michael, ever the dutiful brother, worked the room several times over to make up for Raphael’s shortcomings, but no matter where he went or who he talked to, always his eyes were drawn back to the bright-eyed man in the corner. Wherever they were in the room they always seemed to find each other, moving around each other, less in a circle but a crescent, as though they were tethered to each other. Occasionally, they would meet in the middle to exchange wry comments on Michael’s side and observations on Castiel’s part so cutting they could draw blood.

They had started to shift closer to each other, if anyone looked at them they would assume they were merely being heard over the music, but Michael knew the truth, at least on his part and from the interest he gauged in Castiel’s gaze on occasion, he figured the attraction wasn’t one-sided.

Michael was dancing to a particularly obnoxious Christmas song, one that he would never ever admit to liking when he caught Castiel’s eye. He gestured that the guy should join him but Castiel shook his head, somehow managing to laugh while rolling his eyes. He did at least point to a bottle of beer beside him that he was clearly saving for Michael. By the time the last beats of the song faded into something equally festive, however, a particularly well-dressed woman was casting aside the concept of personal space, attempting to draw Castiel onto the dance floor, where Michael had failed.

Castiel was quite clearly having none of it and was fast losing patience. The woman’s hand came onto his arm and he gently, but firmly removed it.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already batting away the admirers,” Michael laughed, more at the look of pure, unadulterated relief Castiel shot him at his appearance. The woman had the good sense to fade quickly into the background as Castiel handed him the beer.

“Quite,” Castiel said, raising his beer in a grim toast. The woman was still watching them even at a distance, “I thought I’d made myself quite clear when I told her I was gay.”

Michael caught himself before he spat his mouthful of beer out, “Subtle, Castiel. Real subtle.”

“She didn’t seem to be taking the hint. She still doesn’t for that matter.”

Michael gave him one of the sunniest grins in his arsenal, “You could always kiss me under the mistletoe,” he gestured with his bottle to the offending article hanging in boughs beyond the dance floor, “I’m sure she’ll catch on after that.”

“Michael,” Castiel said, with deliberate patience, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe.” Michael accepted the rebuff and was on the verge of saying something witty when Castiel stepped closer to him and said, his breath hot against Michael’s ear, “Not when I have a perfectly serviceable hotel suite just two floors below us.”

A shudder rolled through Michael’s spine and when he looked, he found Castiel standing very close to him, his piercing gaze snaring him. He swallowed the last of his beer with practised nonchalance. “Lead the way.”

Nobody stopped them as the two of them made their way out, nobody even looked their way though no doubt at some point Raphael would wonder what had become of his brother. Still, Michael had done his part for the evening. Not that anyone would guess where the two of them were disappearing too. They walked as casually as though they had simply decided to get some air, maybe pop outside for a cigarette, not stepping too close to each other, save for when Michael’s hand went to the small of Castiel’s back as he leaned past him to call the elevator.

The doors slid closed behind them and no sooner had the tinny speaker announced, “Going down,” that all bets were off. Castiel crowded Michael against the wall, easily done in such a small space and kissed him. No, he didn’t kiss him. He devoured him. His lips were scalding against Michael’s skin as he pressed them against his lips, his jaw, the shell of his ear, anywhere he could reach. Michael was almost embarrassed at the needy groan that escaped him as Castiel found a particular spot, _right there_ , on his neck and rather unfairly grazed his teeth against it. _Almost_ embarrassed, but not quite. It was hard to feel anything beyond the heat building between the two of them.

Of course, there was no time to enjoy it. It had surely only been seconds before the tinny announcer informed them they’d reached Castiel’s floor and the doors slid open. Somehow, Castiel hadn’t gotten so lost in sensation that he had felt the lift stop and drew back from Michael immediately, adjusting his suit in a fluid motion, as though he had had nothing to do with how Michael came to be sprawled in the corner of the elevator, panting through barely parted lips.

“This way,” Castiel said, pleasantly, his voice as low and even as it had ever been. Stepping after him Michael didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. He did neither, following Castiel past a row of nondescript, numbered doorways to his room.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Castiel asked, casually, far removed from the man who had taken Michael apart with just a few heated touches in the elevator.

Michael gave a small shrug, “Just the usual family obligations that Raphael will probably get out of if he’s still trying to sweet-talk your brother. Yourself?”

“I’m sure Gabriel will think of something suitably ghastly, assuming he isn’t occupied of course.”

“Why did your brother agree to work on this over Christmas? I can’t imagine he didn’t have anything better to do.”

“You say _work_ , but in an attempt to acquire Gabriel’s company, your brother has spent an excessive amount of money on various Christmas themed celebrations and Gabriel loves Christmas.” Castiel regarded Michael for a moment, “Did your brother not have anything better to do?”

“Raphael?” Michael scoffed, “No. Categorically not. The man lives and breathes work and besides, our family isn’t exactly close. It’s not as if there’ll be a gathering of Miltons watching Christmas dinner get cold wondering where he is.”

They had stopped in front of a door, Castiel had pulled the keycard that would grant them entry but his hand had paused short of actually inserting it. He turned to Michael, thoughtfully, “Perhaps, we could spend some time together?”

Michael grinned but with equal nonchalance replied, “Perhaps.”

For a moment they both looked at each other, somewhere caught between a smile and a challenge, but Castiel didn’t say anything more, there was only the click of the door as it unlocked.

Stepping into the suite, Michael took it all in quickly, fully expecting Castiel to throw him against the wall and kiss him senseless again. He needn’t have bothered, Castiel passed him as though he knew that was what Michael wanted and so deliberately held off. He sauntered casually towards the couch, drawing aside his bow tie and unbuttoning the top button of his collar, an inescapable breath of relief leaving him as though he could breathe again as it parted for him. The jacket was the first thing to go, sliding from him, effortlessly revealing a tailored dress shirt that somehow didn’t strain against the effort of covering the guy’s muscles.

Realising Michael hadn’t followed, Castiel cast him a glance from over his shoulder and crooked his finger. There was no point in pretending that Michael wasn’t as eager as he was and that Castiel’s considered control of the situation wasn’t hot as hell, so Michael didn’t, crossing the floor in a few, swift strides.

Finally, Castiel kissed him. It was slow, deliberate, every brush of his lips and every teasing sweep of his tongue so carefully administered to ramp things up between them with agonising slowness. But Michael was hardly a passive participant and allowing his hands to sweep down, hooking his fingers into the waistband at Castiel’s hips, grinding them together with a sinful roll of his own hips, feeling a sense of achievement when Castiel broke the kiss to moan his response.

With just a few deft touches, Castiel manoeuvred Michael onto the couch, pushing him down with just a palm, firm on his chest. Michael went willingly and once he was seated Castiel followed him down, straddling him, settling his thighs on either side of Michael, trapping him there.

Michael leaned up to kiss him even though he was at Castiel’s mercy in terms of pace and angle. A distant sound, barely audible but insistent somehow distracted Castiel from the gentle onslaught his lips were working on Michael.

“What is it?” Michael asked as Castiel stilled and cocked his head to listen.

Castiel just smiled at him, giving Michael space for a moment so he could hear what Castiel had heard. He knew when he had from the smile that spread across Michael’s plush lips, already swollen from kissing. Somewhere, a clock was chiming midnight and the hotel had clearly not invested in proper soundproofing as the distant cheers of the party they’d escaped bled into the room.

“Merry Christmas, Michael,” Castiel said.

Michael smiled up at him, cupping his face so he could claim his lips again, “Merry Christmas, Castiel.”

Castiel’s fingers traced a gentle path over Michael’s shirt, pausing when they came to the bow tie.

“I suppose I should unwrap my present,” he murmured and it should have been a cheesy line, but his eyes burned with such intensity that there was no doubt he was quite serious. Michael’s tie was unwound and dropped somewhere beyond the couch before Castiel set to work unbuttoning his shirt, though he was hindered by the fact that Michael refused to relinquish Castiel’s lips. He raised his hands to return the favour, not to mention fulfil his greatest need which right now was limited to _Castiel. Skin. More_. But Castiel batted his hands away, leaning in to nibble the lobe of Michael’s ear. “Not yet,” he whispered, “I’m enjoying my gift.”

The waistcoat was removed and bunched somewhere behind Michael, he could feel it as he leaned against the couch, but didn’t care for the creases. As Castiel peeled back Michael’s shirt he moved his lips down to tease at his chest, somehow managing to maintain his balance even as he mouthed his way lower and Michael leaned into the contact. The fact that Castiel still hadn’t so much as unbuttoned his shirt and was now slowly unzipping Michael’s fly was doing things to Michael that Castiel’s lips had yet to succeed at.

Michael traced his fingers across Castiel’s shoulders, watching the beautiful man slip onto the floor with effortless grace just so he could tug down Michael’s trousers. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fair that Castiel maintained a barrier while his touch burned Michael wherever it landed.

“Hm,” Castiel made a pleased hum when he released Michael from the confines of his trousers, allowing his cock to dance tantalisingly close to Castiel’s lips. Those intense blue eyes never broke contact, not when Michael’s hand slipped through Castiel’s hair and gripped it, not when he leaned forward and darted his tongue across the head, the hint of a breath of a touch.

But Castiel knew what he was doing even as he hissed against the grip Michael held in his hair. Not that he minded, quite the opposite. He leaned in further, kissing his way up Michael’s length, before finally taking him into the wet heat of his mouth, his eyes never once wavering from Michael’s gaze.

“ _Castiel_ ,” Michael breathed, as Castiel’s hands made their way to Michael’s hips, holding him firmly as he forced himself down, taking Michael as deep as he could into his throat. It was around then that Michael forgot how to breathe altogether and all too soon Castiel’s mouth was gone from his cock, as Michael hauled him back up into his lap, desperate to feel that firm hard chest against his. Michael groaned, or was it Castiel, when he tasted himself on his tongue, his hand fisting into Castiel’s shirt pulling him closer, even though there wasn’t a glimmer of space between them.

Michael’s hands were at Castiel’s zipper, popping the button so fast it might have torn and when he loosed Castiel he couldn’t help but throw his head back, a low groan escaping him as Castiel adjusted his position and they thrust against each other for the first time.

“You are exquisite, Michael,” Castiel murmured, for the first time sounding as wrecked as Michael felt. He took them both in hand, using spit and precum to slick them up as he pumped them both. Michael canted his hips into the rhythm of Castiel’s hand, their foreheads together, their breath hot on each other’s lips.

“You’re going to ruin my suit,” Michael managed to choke out, playing for levity as though it could stave off the shocks of pleasure building within him.

Castiel surged forward, claiming Michael’s lips with enough force to draw blood and he growled out, “ _Ruin it_.”

It was enough. That smooth as whisky, sharp as ice voice spoken right against his ear brought Michael right over the edge, though as the groan of his pleasure crested, somewhere he noted that it was enough to take Castiel right over with him and Michael let the man crash against his chest as he lazily worked them through the aftershocks.

“That was-” Castiel was saying, somewhere near Michael’s ear, “Michael, that was...” but he trailed off with a satisfied 'hm', resting his face on Michael’s shoulder as they gently kissed whatever skin they could reach, embracing the afterglow.

An eternity might have passed. They desperately needed to clean themselves up and their suits were most definitely ruined, but neither of them seemed to care. Michael ran his hands in soothing circles across the expanse of Castiel’s back and shoulders, feeling the man relax into the touch, regretting for the first time that he hadn’t removed his shirt. The stillness was broken by a thought coming to Michael and he started humming under his breath. Castiel ignored it for a time, kissing Michael’s shoulder instead, before he stilled, straightening in Michael’s lap and regarding him with a frown.

“That’s-”

Michael continued to hum, his expression a picture of innocence that had no place there given what was dripping off his chest.

Castiel threw his head back and laughed, a breathtaking sight, “Is that...Mariah Carey?”

The song was interrupted when Michael started laughing again, broken off when Castiel cupped his face and kissed him, slowly, savouring.

“Let’s take this to the bed, shall we?” Castiel murmured, standing up with surprising ease even though he'd been crouched over the sofa for so long.

“Excellent idea,” Michael agreed, “but this time you’re losing the clothes.”

“Alright,” already Castiel’s hands moved to unbutton his shirt, using his free hand to pull Michael up. Somehow Michael’s legs were the one to be unsteady and he leaned heavily against Castiel for support, kissing him again, well as he was there. “But you’re not going to sing that damned song again.”

“Hm,” Michael kissed him once more, “we’ll see.”


End file.
